Chasing Nuns
Another med change and this one is for alcohol. Could God be clearing the way?
Sometimes blessings don’t feel like blessings. Many times the blessing IS the burden.
In the last 10 days, I have been living with nausea and hypoglycemic sugar crashes every few hours. I had no business thinking I knew what detoxing was about.
Dizzy and hot and confused. Why am I confused? I know what’s happening. Who was I to think that detox affects should only last a few days? I’ve been drinking steadily for just about 20 years. Time to change my perspective on healing… AGAIN.
I spent the afternoon angrily texting my neighbor about the cigarette smell coming through the walls. My head felt detached and I mentally crashed. In the back space of the Big Lots parking lot, I kicked my dashboard while screaming into my steering wheel. Eventually falling back against the drivers seat, slumped over, I hugged my car seat and I sobbed.
I cried for all the pressure inside me and the lack of compassion from this world. I cried in despair and hopelessness. Then the clock struck 2:20 and I had to pack those tears back in, blow my nose, wipe my face and go into my physical therapy appointment.
Inside there was a nun in front of me, waiting to check out. Full habit, rosaries and all. I checked in and she went to the ladies room.
I thought to myself, “if she comes out before my name it’s called, I’m going to approach her.” And naturally, that is what happened.
I followed her outside the first set of glass doors, before the cold of the second set opened and stopped her. “Excuse me, would you pray for me?”
“Of course, what for?” She answered, almost surprised. She had her uniform on. Don’t other people assume it’s okay to approach them?
With my back to the full waiting room, I told her, “I need healing. Physical, emotional and spiritual. I just spent the last hour crying in my car and I felt my despair. Then I came inside here and saw you. It felt like a nod from God.” She smiled.
I reached out my hands to show her I wanted to pray together, right in that moment. In the glass box where I’m sure many curious people were watching from the corners of their eyes. Was I allowed to touch a nun?
“Are you Catholic?—not that you have to be!” She asked. I told her I was with the United Church of Christ. “Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?” Oh yes.
She took my little hands in her little hands and asked God to stand with me and help me. When she started the Lord’s Prayer, I jumped in and then “Amen”. I thanked her and turned to leave.
“Oh - may I hug you?” She asked with her arms already stretched. I gladly obliged and then we went our separate ways.
In that moment I could’ve became her God Moment for the day. The grateful thing you think about as you lay in bed hours later. As I’m doing myself now.
After my nun encounter, I went into my first PT appointment that has Craniosacral therapy. The practice of laying hands on someone to heal them. Pressure points, moving chi, somehow encouraging damaged parts of the body to heal and correct themselves.
After all that, I came home and found relief. The mental episode, long gone. The only evidence being ugly text messages to my neighbor left on BLOCKED.
Thy Will be done.
